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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28255455">Knifeflight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectSilence/pseuds/ImperfectSilence'>ImperfectSilence</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brainwashing, Contract killing, Gen, Like, Revenge, Seeker culture, Western Themes, lone gunslinger western, the Resurrection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:28:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28255455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectSilence/pseuds/ImperfectSilence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arctem had been wandering when the war broke out, but like everyone else he was forced to choose a side. When Cybertron fell, he deserted. But now, Prime calls them to a new home. A safe refuge, a new beginning. But things are not as they seem. Foul powers are afoot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Planetfall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prime called this planet safe, called this mudball a place of refuge. He declared we were welcome here, and like a naïve fool, I believed him. Landing hadn’t been much of an issue at all, not after so many decades of exploring and running and fighting. It had been a while since the last hot drop I’d done, but it’s not like you can forget how to do it. To get sub orbital without being detected was as simple as nudging one of their primitive floating cans and following it in.</p><p>I slipped under their radar and started working out what was safe and how I needed to act to blend in. Floating in high orbit, I thought I was safe. But, when my radar pinged missile lock, I knew better. The ensuing dogfight was pathetic, like they couldn’t predict anything at all or even fly straight. It was like tag with foundlings who just transitioned to their own wings. Wet-welds wobbling to stay afloat. They weren’t a threat, and it almost felt wasteful to eliminate them, but they attacked, and didn’t break off when I warned them.</p><p>Still, best not to stick around where one isn’t wanted. I cruised along, tapping into their primitive systems. Their grasp of communications was distastefully simple. Simple taps and pauses, flashes and stops. Like carvings on a wall so simple. Still, they launched an attack through their primitive flashing anyway. In truth I paid it no mind, deeming it too weak to do anything.</p><p>What a mistake. The flashing somehow allowed them into my systems and before I knew it they were siphoning off databanks. The nerve of these savages! Tracing their signal back to it’s source was childs play. Whoever they were, they were not prepared for a counter attack.</p><p>I left none standing, the structure burning as a warning to those who would think about another attack.</p><p>The Beacon prime planted sent out its signal again, and I scoffed this time. Safe harbor! This dustbowl was nothing but a scrap heap full of ants. The fact he would call it home lowered my already dismal respect for the Autobot leader. Prime had potential, that was true, but he lacked the spine to use it. He bowed to these fleshlings, to his subordinates, to his friends. There is a time to be friendly and fair and not impress command on them, but there is equally time that a commander must be firm. For all of Megatron’s ideological faults, he at least knew how to enforce order. Brutal? Yes. Fair? Absolutely not. But, he is at war. Wartime demands strong leadership. Optimus may have been a great peacetime leader, but at war, leaders must be unquestionable. Prime is too weak to save our peoples, even if his ideas are the better ones. The Autobots proving to have been fools, I wondered how to get in touch with the Decepticons.</p><p>When my proximity alarm rocketed into existence, I tabled that thought. I swerved to the side, narrowly knifing past another jet in the sky. Rather than contact, or veer off, he spirals behind me, closing on my aft. I admire his skill at navigating the jet wash from my engines, but spin away nevertheless. No matter who this pilot is, no human should be trying to play chicken with me. When he matches my spin, I kick it up a notch. Two loops and a barrel roll seems like child’s play, but in crossing air densities and atmospheric layers, the turbulence alone would give normal people pause.</p><p>My follower takes the lead, cutting across the second loop into a freefall, and like a stooping falcon, I follow. As the altimeter shrieks and spins, I wonder how close he’ll get in this faint. The buildings start to look like dots, then grow larger and larger. More features become apparent, as we get closer and closer. I’m starting to worry for his safety when the smaller things become visible, things like the bus station, or the trees. The large vehicles, the smaller ones, the people, their dogs- I’m close to leveling out myself when he cuts his jets 90 degrees and rockets down a street.</p><p>I’m right on his tail as he flips between buildings, narrowly slips between traffic lights. It takes most of my ability not to crash or hit anything as we spiral between skyscrapers and vehicles. I’m dead on his tail, wondering where he plans to go when my processor catches the sign we passed. Tunnel in 2.7 km. I offline the danger indicator and maintain my momentum. Well, not so much maintained as accelerated. If I hadn’t known before that this was someone not to be trifled with, and not human, then his wings curling inwards to slip between the pillars would have shown me. My own required no adjustment as I shot behind him.</p><p>If I had thought that flying through the city was difficult, then this was impossible. There was 20 ft of clearance between the ground and ceiling, not counting the cars traveling in the tunnel. Primus help us if there was a truck in one of the lanes. The tunnel lacked sharp curves, for which I assume we both were grateful. Instead, I just had to have my sensors on overdrive as I reacted on a whim to the incoming data.  He was good, but not quite as good as I was. We were nearing the end of the tunnel when the worst happened: a truck entered. The clearance on his load was a matter of feet, which meant inches for us. He whipped past it, and his left wing brushed the top in a shower of sparks, I had to slow as his speed dropped from the impact. He shot into the light and veered right, to which I waggled over the truck and shot after. I had to dodge a rockfall as I left the tunnel, which caused me to lose ground.</p><p>He dove into dark cloud rolling west, a sandstorm. Within the walls of the storm, my sensors were blind. Static rolled across my wings, sending false commands to the materials. A lesser bot, or one who lacked my own power would have broken form and plummeted, likely to be buried under the sands for who knows how long. Instead, the static just passed on, leaving no damage. I caught hint of a wind pattern contrary to the flow of the storm and dove into the stream. It was narrow and closing fast, the vicious winds erasing all signs of anything passing through. Blind and defenseless, tracking by pressure changes alone, I stuck to my course. Yes, this storm was impressive; but I had challenged worse. I had beaten greater foes than this one. I corrected the clogged intake by ruffling the metal and my engines gained power. I rocketed along the faint trail, chasing the needle as the haystack attacked me. I could feel myself gaining on the other; could feel the gap narrowing.</p><p>It came as a shock to us both when I caught him. He wasn’t expecting me to find him while within the storm, and I wasn’t quite prepared for it. Nevertheless, I shifted slightly, and sunk my talons into his wings. He lost altitude quickly, shifting himself to try and separate, but my hold was too secure. We crashed through the side of the sand wall. The impact through me from him, and the sands blocked my lock again. I prepared my systems and made to lunge at him, but he drew first. I stared down the barrel of his energy cannon and paused. I had vague memories of shrugging oncoming fire off like it wasn’t worth anything, but could I do so again? I debated attacking still, but he flipped the gun and offered a hand.</p><p>“You’re quite impressive, little sparrow.” He said sounding genuine. I was surprised.</p><p>“Who are you?” I demanded, a little impetuously.</p><p>He laughs for a moment then grows serious. “You don’t recognize one of the royal guards? Not even one of the one’s you knew? I remember watching you two grow up.”</p><p>“Vir-“ I start before correcting myself and noticing the tag on his armor. “Vindictus.” I subconsciously straighten, remembering deep inside that I had looked up to him and his siblings long ago.</p><p>“So you do remember.”</p><p>“Why are you here?” I ask evenly.</p><p>“I can’t visit one of my favorite nephews?” he says. At my look of doubt, he dislodges a pile of sand from his armor. “My master sends me to bid you welcome.”</p><p>“Starscream?” I ask incredulously.</p><p>He gives me a look like I’m delusional. “No. He’s called the Fallen. He wants to make a treaty with you.”</p><p>“Why me?” I ask.</p><p>“Don’t know. I voted to simply kill you, but he thinks you’re valuable for some reason. Will you agree to meeting him or not?” He demands.</p><p>“I’ll meet him. Someplace neutral to us both.” With my agreement, Vindictus takes off for atmosphere.</p><p>I have no intention of meeting this Decepticon. I’m going to slip off world and-</p><p>“Arc, listen to me, I don’t have much time. You can’t trust the autobots. We found something on the moon that-“ the transmission fizzled to static and the loose bond around my spark skipped twice before snapping. She was gone. Just like that, she was gone. Three hundred years we scavenged together and just like that they-</p><p>I flip open my comm, <strong>“<em>Vindictus. Where can I meet this leader of yours? I’m ready to hear his offer. Send me coordinates, the sooner the better.”</em></strong></p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Contract Killer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The interior of the ship was dark, and grimy, and reeked of arrogance. I fit right in. The talks hadn’t been more than just a formality- I wouldn’t swear to his name, but we were allies for the time being. He called himself the Fallen One, and it took me remembering all the way back to ancient history to recall who he was. A prime. A living, breathing, relic of our golden age. Yes, one who had sought to break our rules, but we don’t know why he tried. I hadn’t the gall to ask, but he most likely had a reason for trying to do what he did, genocide. He listened to me, showed me that I was right, that I had always been right. The Fallen, he, he empathized with me. He understood who I was and why I couldn’t join him outright, but it was okay. As long as I hunted Autobots, he was okay with providing me shelter. He sent me to my Uncle, to Vind, and Vind showed me what it felt like to be royalty.</p><p>“So, my favorite nephew-“</p><p>“I’m your only nephew.” I retorted.</p><p>“No, your cousin is still lost in space. No one has heard from her in oh, a century or two, but she’s still alive. We would feel her passing, you and I.” Vindictus replied, offhandedly shoving us past the armory guards.</p><p>“As I was saying, you’ve finally come to your senses. Welcome to home. I’ve missed, oh, what half a dozen celebrations? Have your pick of the lot, my treat.” Before his outstretched arm was weapons galore. Walls were covered in rifles, shotguns, grenades, rockets, knives and axes and swords. In a corner was an entire guardian shield, likely scavenged from the royal vaults themselves back in iacon. By no method of observation could they be called glittering, as many had dust and oil and energon caked on them, but they were all functional. The edges of the blades shone, the magazines of the guns were primed- it was a looters heaven. I’ll admit, the pirate in me got out, just a little.</p><p>“The pick? Anything?” I asked, hesitation creeping into my voice.</p><p>“Anything. As long as you can keep it. On the ship, whatever you have you have to be able to keep. You lose it, its gone. No rules.” He swung the other direction and watched the door, “I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.”</p><p>He pulled the door closed behind him, and I turned back to the walls of weaponry and armor.</p><p>“So much destruction, so little space.” I sang, running a hand over the lower shelf of repeaters. Anything I had needed to either be armor compatible, or friendly enough that I could reformat around it. Most of the things here wouldn’t be so nice to me. Anything large was a nogo, weight and seekers do not mix well. Same goes with anything bulky. Fir instance, no mortars, weight, nor axes, bulk. Things that were compatible with seeker physiology were things like swords, long rifles, small repeaters—basically if you can sneak it into a casino, it’s probably good. I walked over to the racks of swords and started from the top. Number one was out, I didn’t have the heft to use a claymore correctly. Same two went the next three for similar size reasons. In the medium range was a wonderful short sword and a paired buckler, but that wasn’t my style. Seekers tended to not stand and fight- massive overwhelming force and sneak attacks were our MO. So, I passed on the medium swords as well. Near the bottom were the throwing knives, which I would normally have jumped at if I hadn’t seen the seemingly empty shelf. Delicately, I reached inside of the cube and pulled out a mated pair. They sang, one echoing and leading the other. One edge traced the others wake, guided its slipstream. They flashed and sang diving and ducking and chasing through the air like only a seeker could appreciate. These were mine.</p><p>The guard on the sword handles said something, “Not even broken wings cans top you from flying.” It was a quote attributed to the seventh captain to the royal Vosian throne, right after the war of false lights. He was an assassin who saved the Prince and turned his back on his employers for the sake of the throne. (He was found dead mere hours after coronation, courtesy of his old life, but the swords survived.) They were the tools of a quiet and lethal bot, who never asked twice. They slid into my armor and meshed perfectly without needing to calibrate.</p><p>Next, I needed range. One way or another, no one survives a war on purely melee. No one. Most of the guns were from grounders and wouldn’t work. The difference in flight systems and weapons meant that without heavy rework, they just would cut it. I could try, but it would be easier to just find something. Unfortunately, none of the guns in the armory were captured from Seekers. They were all grounder weapons, and thus unusable. I did sneak by the grenade bin and loot a few dozen. Just enough for a couple of carpet-bombing runs.</p><p>Last up was armor. Armor is a tricky thing with seekers- some swear by it, other swear off it. In the early days, seekers flew without armor, and if you got hit, well, then you were that much of a flier were you? But, as times shifted, seekers began adopting armor. Not too long ago, heavy armor was all the rage. The term flying fortress comes to mind. In the aftermath of the war, with our culture in fragments and bots scrounging for all they can get, anything goes. Armor was more forgiving when combining than weapons, as armor’s main issue is bulk. But, armor is also malleable in a way that weapons cannot be. At first I went for a heavy build, for a suit of complete protection. But, then I thought it over. Everyone else went heavy. Vindictus, Starscream, Megatron- they all had heavy armor. But I could outfly them all. He wouldn’t admit it, but I scared Vind. He didn’t think that I could keep up with him, that I could catch him. Very few could break into that storm, and fewer still could get back out. Doing so with so little armor like I had? A bare handful of seekers still alive could pull that off. A weak half dozen, and my name just got added to the list. I could go heavy, but it would only slow me down. I dropped my armor. I let the weight flow off of me, clanging to the floor. I felt light. Like I would float away. How long had I been under armor? How many years?</p><p>I stuck my head out into the hall. “Yo, uncle, any of these tossers a smith?”</p><p>“Ratbat is one.” He paused. I didn’t trust a slimy lowlife like rat. He had a reputation from before the war of selling weak alloys. Underquality goods. He would be a last choice. “The other is the Fallen.”</p><p>Could I? Dare I? Ask for help from a legend? From a god? Seekers were wholly agnostic, meaning we didn’t give a spanner if there was or wasn’t a deity. We found things, we chased things, we hunted things. We were the explorers, the discoverers, the innovators. We didn’t stop and wonder at things. But, war has a funny was of making people religious. And power is something worthy of respect. And, if powerful enough, worship. I wasn’t a believer, but to some on this ship, The fallen one was above all else. And I was going to ask him for a favor.</p><p> </p><p>“My lord, I-“ I could hear starscream’s mewling cowering from two halls away and it grated on me. Starscream, Prince, acting like a coward, like a fool, without honor. Yes, this was someone far more powerful and ancient, but you the prince of an independent state. Vos chose a side when war broke out, we negotiated terms of our allegiance. This is not part of the deal. I stalked into the throne room, optics flicking over the form of Starscream kneeling in simpering disgusting awe. I saw The Fallen’s appraising look, and saw my chance for what it was.</p><p>             He did not see my foot coming. Starscream, that is. My kick caught him in the wing, sent him sprawling on the floor.</p><p>“You disgust me, worm.” I hissed, stepping on his wounded wing. “Leave us.” Starscream shrieked and begged, but his words meant nothing- neither of us had any respect for him or his groveling. His pleas to Vindictus, who once would have defended him, fell on deaf ears.</p><p>“Your grace,” I began, kneeling.</p><p>“Yes, my newest friend. What brings you to me so soon?”</p><p>“I must ask of your services. I offer to you first pick at the scavenging of my first five kills.” I  said.</p><p>“What do you desire in return?” He asks.</p><p>“I wish for you to purify the armor in the armory. I want seeker armor. Not grounder plating.”</p><p>“You will allow me all of your first three kills. I will grant you this boon.” He offered.</p><p>“We have a deal.”</p><p>He shook out his armor and leaned on his staff, rising from his throne. If any thought him weak, they merely needed to observe his throne closer. It looked black and ominous, but it wasn’t until you got close that you saw that it was made of pieces of bots. And some of the parts still dripped. We followed him back to the armory, and only had to make an example of one bot on the way. He tried to pry my swords off of my chassis- I assumed he no longer needed the limb. I could feel Vindictus grin from behind me. He approved. The fallen took three steps into the armory and raised his staff. The metals flew together, grinding against one another as he crushed them into one blob. Next, he started pulling out impurities. Sprigs and shavings of metal began raining down, bits of cobalt and iron. Heavier things dropped out as well, tungsten and lead. A gout of flame rocketed off the top as oxide cooked off in the contained heat. Finally, the molten ball separated into layers. Lighter metals rested on denser ones. He slammed his staff on the ground, and the ball of metal rippled.</p><p>“You owe me three kills.” He said, stalking away.</p><p>“Two!” Vindictus called out. The fallen stopped.</p><p>“Two?” His tone was dangerous.</p><p>“The mech who tried to steal from him. Arc here cut open his main lines. He bled out. One kill down.” Vind looked gleeful.</p><p>“The other two will be my choice.” He deadpanned. “ I want the Scavenger, Junkset, and the Bastion, Aegis.”</p><p>“It will be done.” I said, running my fingers through the metals. Molten shifting liquid poured up my fame, the lightest and most durable alloys settling into the normal joints. The new armor wasn’t nearly as protective, but it optimized speed and mobility. Plus, it could take a few hits. Probably. Maybe not. I’d just have to not get hit then.</p><p>“Anything else, Uncle?” I asked, spinning on my new axis.</p><p>“Good hunting.” He said.</p><p>“Swift winds.”</p>
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